Not All Who Wander Are Lost

When Matthew found Alfred, he was standing on a street corner, sheltered from the pouring rain by a covered bus stop. He could see the glow of a cigarette illuminate the face of his brother, reflecting off his glasses. Matthew slowly walked up to him and folded his umbrella, silently joining Alfred and watching the rain. It was dark and no one was around. The rain was hard enough to make it seem like they stood in their own little world, with only a flickering streetlamp to keep them company.

"Cigarette?" Alfred finally offered.

"You quit two decades ago," Matthew said as he took one.

Alfred held up a lighter and Matt leaned in, puffing out a small burst of smoke. It lingered in the air like their breath. "So did you."

Matthew didn't say anything to that, only stood and smoked. A while passed before Alfred spoke once more. "You ever miss the past?"

"Depends on when you're referring to."

"Oh," Alfred said, flicking off some ash. "Any time, I suppose."

Matthew thought about it for a minute. "Not really. I don't know."

"Hmm."

"Why're you asking?" Matt questioned.

"The West is won."

Matthew chewed over that a minute."Isn't that a good thing? Manifest Destiny and all."

"Yeah," America said slowly. "I suppose. There's just…no where else to go, you know? I miss them."

"Miss who?"

"The cowboy days."

"Huh."

"Even after I got to the Pacific, you know. Just the days spent alone, on horseback, wandering from town to town. There'd be times when I'd look all around me and see nothin' but rocks and grass and sky. Just… knowin' there's more out there, more to discover. All you'd smell was fire and leather and when the sun set, that's where you'd go, just pointin' yourself to the horizon." Alfred trailed off.

"They were silent again for a little while, thinking, until the northern brother murmured, "I understand, I think. When I was young, and I took my dogs and just went north and north and north until it was all just ice and sea. Or go through the woods and never meet anyone for such long times."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, slowly nodding. "Weeks. Wouldn't see a man for weeks at a time. Never even find civilization. Never speak to anyone but your horse or your dog or the sky."

"Discovery."

"I miss it."

"Space?"

"Can't go there, not without money and media and science. Don't get me wrong, I love it. I do. But… you can't just up and go to space. You can't lose yourself up there."

"True. Though I've heard it's beautiful."

"Like starin' at God, I swear. I don't even like religion anymore, but seein' the Earth up there… but it's not the same."

"I know." Matt exhaled smoke in unison with this twin. "No more land to find."

"Nope," Alfred sighed.

"All politics now, n'est-ce pas."

"Dancin'."

"Can't argue with that."

"The West is won," Alfred muttered and Matthew couldn't quite tell if it was to himself or not. He waits in silence for his twin to comment again, but it's quiet except the rain for a good few minutes. Their cigarettes are getting low and their fingers are turning numb. Alfred takes another drag and the tip of his cigarette flares, prompting Matt to glance over and notice how he looks. It reminds Matthew a little of his cowboy days, when Alfred would drawl slow and stand loose and relaxed and dangerous, like he is now. Only something's a little off. Matt thinks maybe it's the weary shoulders.

"Shit," Alfred sighs. "When did we turn so old?"

Matthew can't answer that, so he doesn't. The rain is still loud against the roof of the covered bus stop.

Alfred reaches the end of his cigarette and stubs it out in a puddle. Matthew takes another look over and is unsurprised to find his twin looking one part wistful, one part fond, and one part that hard as weathered stone. "Smaller world," Matt says.

Alfred shakes his head. "It's not smaller," he murmured, before giving his brother a nod in goodbye, never making eye contact, and stepping out of shelter, immediately getting soaked. "The world's not smaller, bro... it's just got less in it."

As his brother is swallowed up in the dusk, Matthew smokes and stares at the rain.

A/N: I think Alfred especially would miss the days of the untamed West... I hope you enjoyed this weird little thing. It came out pretty somber, I think. I adore brotherly love between these two, and it's my belief that they have a close relationship. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review with critiques or love or suggestions, even suggestions for what to write next! Also, I don't own Hetalia or any partial quotes I used. Ciao! ~StrawberriesAndTea